Duty's Regret
by Seallyn
Summary: After becoming king, Alistair Theirin must face the consequences of his decision to break his relationship with the beautiful elven rogue Ealasaid
1. Chapter 1 For Feleden

**Chapter 1-For Ferelden**

The blight was over and Alistair Theirin was now the king of Ferelden, a country in repair. The recent war left the land scarred and devastated and its people afraid and uneasy. Even though the Arch demon had been eradicated, what remained of its forces still wandered the wilds in disarray. Many peasants and chasind folk complained of the monster's presence. Sending troops to aid these people was of great concern to Alistair, but there was another task of even greater importance to the nobles that had to be taken care of.

Fulfilling his royal duty and hoping to obtain more support from the northern countries Alistair agreed to marry Isabella Feryn, daughter to the Teryn of Vol Dorma in the High Reaches. Alistair's uncle Arl Eamon Guerrin had spoken very highly her. The daughter of the Teryn was well versed in etiquette, music, and the arts and as every young noble woman should be, she was well prized for her chastity and piety. As impressive as her reputation might have been to what was considered a royal standard, Alistair felt no connection to her. Alistair had spent most of his life away from politics and had only received his title recently the result of the death of this half brother, Cailan.

He wondered if he would ever be able to love another woman as none would ever compare to the woman he left behind. That thought stole all the cheer from him. He had hoped to meet his bride to be at least once before they were to be married, but he was forbidden to see her until the ceremony.

Her ghastly bright hair was pinned up in rivulets of white thread. The shape of her thin childish frame was indistinguishable underneath the thick layers of expensive cloth that created her elaborate wedding dress. Small clear crystals had been woven into the corset lining the ribbing and golden thread etched the patterns of roses on the panels in between. The train of her outrageous skirt stretched for seven yards in length and two yards in width the rose patterns echoed in its length. She wore thick gaudy pearls around her slender neck and low hanging pearl earrings adorned her ears. She wore many golden rings on her slim fingers the tawdry thick bands adding to the garish visage. Alistair stood by the altar staring at the woman slowly gliding down the aisle, the woman who would be his queen; her pale stern face the color of snow, was lost in the glare of her dress. The only feature he was able to discern was her eyes piercing through the veil, cold and blue; the color of ice.

The ceremony had been long and dull. The priest droned on and Alistair stared at the floor, weary with boredom. He had taken quick glances at his new wife trying to find some gleam of personality in her, some spark of life, but he could never find anything more than a placid face and empty eyes. He felt no love for her or from her. He again questioned the idea that he would ever be able love her.

The large richly decorated room suffocated him the priest's voice becoming a distant hum in his ears. He wanted to run away from this ridiculous place, to escape, to find the woman he did love, his beloved Ealasaid. The woman he betrayed when he had become king. His cheeks flushed in shame and his mind wandered to the memories of earlier days.

He longed for the days of battle where he and his beloved had fought side by side against their enemy. He saw her in his mind's eye, radiant and violently beautiful. Her elven heritage had made her all the more exotic and ravishing to him. He could see the thick, maroon, drake skin leather clinging at her voluptuous female form. He remembered the curvaceous shape of her hips as she swung her quick blades felled their foes. He knew those hips well. The warm tanned skin from the sun, and the soft light hair that covered it. Her long, lustrous, golden hair was always kept in a tight bun to keep it out of her jade colored, almond-shaped eyes. And her smell. He remembered her smell most of all. The sweet aroma of the oils from indigenous flowers she used to bathe in mixed with hot sweat and blood from travel and war.

He felt his skin burn and looked up to see the priest glaring at him. He was supposed to say something, but he wasn't sure what. The priest asked him again, "wilt thou have this woman to be thy wedded wife, to live together after the Maker's ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honour, and keep her, in sickness and in health; and forsaking all other, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?" Alistair stared at his solemn bride then back at the priest.

"My King?" the priest queried his tone held a hint of agitation.

"I do," Alistair replied softly then repeated with more resolve, "I do."

The feast and the dance had been a blur, faces of the other nobles flashed by in a haze of white. It wasn't long before the time had come to enter the bridal chamber to consummate the monstrosity the nobles called marriage. A deafening cacophony of voices filled the halls as he held her hand in his, the chill creeping into his skin and he shivered. They walked down the hall passing his guests who applauded the new couple. They entered the overly decorated bridal chamber, closing the door with an ominous thud. Isabella quickly let go of Alistair's hand and sat on the side of the bed, her hands folded across her lap, her eyes staring at the richly painted wall. Alistair watched her sitting tall like marble sculpture. Alistair walked towards the massive canopy bed and leaned against a bed poll wrapping an arm around it looking at the plaintive creature seated beside him.

She looked so young and helpless. Her hands were small, dwarfed by the billowing sleeves of her dress. Alistair noticed the sharp lines of her face; the harsh line of her chin and her sharp pointed nose. Her neck looked dangerously thin surrounded by the large pearls that hung on it; he feared that it would snap under the pressure of their weight.

"Well I suppose this is it, right," he started, "time for us to strip off our clothes and have our way with each other the way the Maker intended." He laughed nervously. Isabella held her gaze on the wall, her lips pursed. Alistair sighed. He reached a hand to her shoulder and she jumped. He quickly removed it.

"Maybe we could share a story about ourselves, a funny anecdote perhaps, to, uh, ease the tension a bit, lighten the mood." Alistair grinned politely, Isabella never turning her stare. "Hmm…okay, I'll go first. Uh, well, I don't know if you know this, but I was raised in the chantry. I hated it there."

Shock waved over Isabella's white face finally turned towards him. "Why would you hate the chantry, the Maker's Holy House? Only there can we be fully at peace in his presence!" She turned her gaze back to the wall.

Alistair was taken aback by Isabella's sudden outburst. "Oh of course, I just, uh, it was, you know, the fact that I wanted to stay with Arl Eamon, is all. He took care of me before his wife sent me to the chantry. The revered mother hated me. She always stared at me with such cruelty in her eyes. I was afraid that some day she would stare at me so long that I would explode." He chuckled lightly.

"The revered mother would never hate anyone. The Maker would be disappointed to hear you speak such sacrilege against his chosen children." She spewed, her body shaking in fear and anger. "Forgive me, your Highness. I do not wish to speak out of turn. I beg your forgiveness."

"You don't need to apologize, I wish for you to always speak your mind." Alistair shook his head and sighed.

"I shall do my best, Sire."

"Uh, right." Alistair stared at her puzzled, "Enough about me then, what about you? Do you have anything you would like to share, any dreams, any desires, any funny stories about being chased by wild pigeons?" Alistair smiled remembering Shale and her hatred for the foul creatures and Ealasaid who loved to tease Shale about them.

She remained silent and stoic for a few moments before finally saying, "My only desire is to be a good wife, and to bear you many strong sons."

Alistair sighed, "Come on there must be something that you wish for, something that you long for."

"I long to make you happy, husband."

Alistair sighed disheartened, "You know what, this isn't working. Maybe we should, just, get this over with." Alistair looked at her, her body visibly shaking. _It's going to be a long night,_ he thought.

He sat on the bed beside her. Her shaking made him nervous. He recalled his first time the evening, had been the best night of his life. He hadn't expected to fall in love with her, Ealasaid the beautiful elf goddess. But being around her had been so intoxicating, he could think of nothing else then being with her. He put his arm around Isabella, feeling her shrink away from him. He decided to start slow, doing what he could to make the mouse next to him as comfortable as possible.

He took the pins out of her hair, letting the long strands fall down her back. He ran his hand threw her hair and cupped the back of her head. He kissed the side of her face. Her skin was so cold he was almost surprised she was even alive. He took one of her hands and kissed it and then proceeded to kiss up her arm over the extravagant cloth till he reached her neck. He closed his eyes and buried his face into her neck. He untied the front of her corset letting the gold string fall to the floor. He pulled the corset off struggling to get her to raise her arms.

He pulled her pearl necklace over her head and unclasped the earrings hanging from her small ears. He knelt to his knees and pulled off her slippers. He reached for the top of her bloomers but struggled to remove them because of her position. He sighed heavily, while she continued to stay frozen.

"Would you mind laying back on the bed for me?" He asked as sweetly as he could. Without a word Isabella laid back where she was, her legs hanging over the bed side. Alistair shook his head and chuckled. He lifted her in his arms, she squirmed surprised but said nothing. He laid her in the middle of the bed. He then stood up and worked on removing his clothes.

He stood beside the bed completely naked and vulnerable, his manhood limp and uninspired. _If you could sleep with Morrigan you can do this, Alistair. You have to, for your country, _he thought looking at the boy figured girl smothered in folds of cloth. Isabella stared at the ceiling her cheeks turning red with embarrassment. Alistair climbed onto the bed and positioned himself in front of her. He lifted her skirt and pulled off her bloomers followed by her tights. She shivered as her sex was exposed. He continued to lift the skirt until her dress was up and over her head and then on the floor. He stared at her uncovered body. Her head turned to the side, her breath quickening. She covered her flat chest with her hands. Alistair pulled her legs apart and bent over her, dropping his head to kiss her cheek and neck. He closed his eyes letting himself forget where he was and who he was with. Soon his mind saw the image of his former lover. His kisses grew more passionate as he did his best to forget that the woman he loved was not the woman beneath him. He started to fondle Isabella's body, his fingers imagining Ealasaid's round womanly curves.

_The young elf rogue sat by the campfire wearing only her drake skin plate, her gloves, helmet, and boots beside her. She was running her fingers over the intricate words of an historical tome she had recently found. The night air was crisp and tossed the long blonde hair that was usually kept in a bun. The reading routine was calming to her. She found that it helped her mind release the haunting images she carried within her. She mumbled a word storing it in her memory. Dirt crunched nearby signaling approaching footsteps. She broke her eyes from the lines and gazed upward and saw him standing close to her. He wore a loose white tunic dirtied from years of use and tight brown breeches that shaped his legs nicely. He shifted his weight anxiously. _

_"I guess I don't really know how to ask you this," he sighed. She stood up, dropping the text to the ground._

_"Ask me what? You're sweating! Alistair are you alright?" She stared at him, confused. He wiped the glistening sweat from his brow, his hands folding over one another._

_He chuckled shyly. "No…yes…I mean…I'm fine. I just…" again he sighed. "You'd think this would be easier." He suddenly smiled, brightening up his face, his light brown eyes sparkling. His voice steadied finding a small ounce of confidence. "Every time I'm around you I feel like my head's going to explode, I can't think straight."_

_"I hope you mean that in a good way," she smiled trying to hide her anticipation._

_"Hah. Yes…of course." He glanced down suddenly embarrassed by his awkwardness. He swallowed and once again gazed into her light green eyes. "Being near you drives me crazy, but I can't imagine being without you. Not…ever. I don't know how to say this any other way. I want…I want to spend the night with you. Here in camp." He looked to the ground. "Maybe this is too fast, I don't know, but I know how I feel." His eyes held a vicious intensity she had never seen before. It took her breath away._

_"I wanted to wait," he continued, "for the perfect time, the perfect place, but when will it be perfect? If things had been we wouldn't have even met." He boldly stepped forward closing the gap between them. "We sort of stumbled into each other and despite this being the least perfect time, I still found myself, falling for you. I don't want to wait anymore. I've…I've never done anything like this before you know that." _

_She nodded, "I know, neither have I." He grabbed her chin with a single finger, his grin growing wider._

_"I remember." His smile dimmed slightly. "I was just thinking, what if something were to happen to one of us, or both of us. I'd like to be able to say that I threw caution to the wind at least once in my life." She grabbed his hand and pulled it around her waist. She kissed him lightly, with unexpected audacity._

_"I suppose that's a yes, then," he grinned. She smiled back._

_"Yes."_

_Taking her hand the two walked over to her tent and pealed back the flap. The fire outside created a soft orange glow inside. Both their bodies were fraught with excitement. He cupped her face and leaned down to kiss her. Her unruly body drew closer, her hands tenderly placed on his chest. He released his hands from her face and slid them gently down her neck and over her shoulders. He loosened the belts on her leather armor and let it slide down her slim body exposing her fully. He stood back taking in her naked beauty._

_"Maker, but you're beautiful," he smiled, his breath becoming heavy. His eyes focused on her young, supple breasts and he reached for them. He cupped one in each hand. Without hesitation he lunged for them, his mouth consuming the soft skin ravishingly. She gasped and smiled in delight feeling his touch on her. Her stomach jumped feeling a rising need inside her and a dampness between her legs. He licked her breast up to her neck kissing it passionately. He hugged her tightly bringing her body firmly against his. She moaned and let her fingers grab his hair. _

_She reached down and tugged at his tunic and snuck her hands underneath feeling the beat of his heart in a furious rampage. He helped her pull the shirt over his head and threw it negligently to the ground. She looked down and saw the bulge in his trousers. She swallowed down her apprehensiveness and reached for the sinew strings that held the material together. His hot breath hit the back of her neck raising all the little hairs there to attention. His hands reached for her head and he let his fingers entangle in her hair. Her inexperienced fingers fumbled feeling the pressure of his cock against them. She giggled nervously. After several fruitless attempts she finally loosened the strings, allowing the breeches to slide off. His smallclothes had been unable to fully restrain his growing manhood, its head peaking out over the waist band. She quickly slid off the waste of cloth freeing his erection fully. _

_A hard quiver shook her body. She returned her eyes to her lover's face his eyes penetrating deep inside of her. He brought her face to his and kissed her hard. She grabbed the skin at his side, his muscles clenching, his cock pressing hard against her abdomen. He forced himself to let go and the two knelt to the ground._

_She shuffled back onto her bed roll as he crawled on top of her, his eyes never wavering in intensity. She spread her legs and lay down her head, his hand behind her. He maneuvered himself settling down just outside her throbbing slit. The head of his cock tickled her clitoris making her shiver. He grinned at her delight. He put his weight onto one side using his free hand to help guide him into her. He moaned as he slowly pushed into her depths, the warm slick skin of her cunt inviting. He pushed till he felt a slight resistance. She arched and moaned her body becoming uncontrollable. He returned her moan with a sigh, his eyes fluttering._

_She grabbed his arms, her nails digging into his biceps. He rocked back and forth his cock almost slipping out, his moans growing louder till they become screams. She instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist. His momentum increased and his thrusts becoming harder. She screamed feeling a sharp pain stab through her. She rolled her head back grinding her teeth. Through the pain she could feel a wave of heat rising. She had felt a similar wave on the few occasions that lent her the opportunity to touch herself, but as he pummeled inside she felt an intensity she had never known. The pain eased becoming a distant thing and she moaned again. Her hands gripped harder turning his skin red and blistered. He bent down to his elbows and let his hot body, slippery with sweat, smother her. _

_Her eyes shot open as her insides burst and pulsated. Her breath became uneven with panic and pleasure. This was the satisfaction that she had always wanted, but could never find by herself. She screamed and her body convulsed becoming a disconnected being. He matched her scream and shouted her name the orgasm violently taking over his body. He sucked in air through his teeth and moaned again feeling the last drop of his seed spill out of his body, painting the walls of her vagina and leaking out onto her thighs._

_He crumbled to her side leaving a weary arm around her waist. They turned to stare at each other, their faces calm and still. After a long stretch of silence he chuckled._

"_What?" She asked catching his laugh._

"_According to all the sisters in the monastery I should have been struck down by lightening by now."_

"_Lightening…hmm?"_

"_Although," he stroked her cheek, "if you are to get struck afterwards, I don't see it as much of a deterrent." She could do nothing but giggle. He kissed her again and nuzzled her cheek. Her eyes closed, drifting off to sleep. He lifted himself onto an elbow watching over her as she dreamed. He stared enchanted by the rise and fall of her chest until he too could no longer resist slumber's call. _

Inspired, Alistair felt heat rush to his loins and his erection finally made an appearance. He moaned loudly into Isabella's hand covered chest. He leaned in closer letting his body touch hers. He grabbed his organ and shoved it inside Isabella's reluctantly wet slit. She cried out as his member stretched her virgin cavern beyond its limits. She screamed loudly feeling the thin layer of skin inside her break, blood pooling at its rupture. Tears streamed down her face unrestrained yet she remained still. Unaware of her discomfort Alistair's rhythm increased until it reached its full potential and released his seed all over Isabella's white thighs. He breathed hard into Isabella's neck as his body recuperated from the short loveless event.

Spent, Alistair awakened from his erotic dream and stared down at the pitiful creature weeping below him. Her eyes were closed and her cheeks stained with wetness. Her head was still turned to the side and her hands, still atop her breasts were smothered by Alistair's strong masculine body. She softly whimpered turning her face as far into her pillow as she could in her position.

Feeling guilty for ignoring her apparent pain, Alistair got off of her quivering body and sat beside her and stared at his hands. Isabella curled up into a ball on her side and softly cried. Alistair glanced at her back trying to think of something comforting to say. He didn't realize that he could hurt her so badly. His first time with Ealasaid had been a magical experience. He again pictured the beautiful elf lying on her back, her eyes begging for him to couple with her and him willingly to oblige. Unable to think of anything to say to the frazzled girl, Alistair let out a heavy sigh and got off the bed. He grabbed his pillows and laid them on the floor resolving that he would spend the rest of the night on the floor, ashamed and embarrassed. He grabbed the covers and lightly placed them over the shivering sobbing body of his new wife. He found a robe nearby and decided to use it for his own blanket and fell to the floor in an attempt to sleep.

Alistair tossed and turned all night on the cold, hard floor, trying to fight off the dreams that were haunting him. He could see Ealasaid, her lovely face shining brightly, her lips red and smiling, her body draped in light transparent sheer silk. Relieved at her presence, Alistair rushed to her. He kissed her passionately, his troubles fading in her warm feminine embrace. His hands felt her strong muscles taut underneath her smooth and succulent skin. He tasted the sweet juices of her mouth encapsulated by the smell of her skin so close to his nose. A strange sound broke his reunion. Confused Alistair released his hold and looked around and when he turned back elven Venus was gone, her image replaced by a disfigured, mewling, white shadow.

_Ealasaid where are you?_ His dreaming mind questioned. He called out her name again in a panic, _Ealasaid!_ The wailing ghost came closer, its cries growing louder and more unnerving. Blue cold eyes lanced through him stabbing his heart until he cried out in pain.

_Where is she?_ The howling ghost cackled. The environment around him, unnoticeable in his previous romantic fervor, became dark and twisted. He couldn't recognize any shape only hear the maddening rise of the apparition's shrieks that became more animalistic with each haggard breath it took.

Maniacal laughter broke through overhead. A voice indiscernible to its gender rose and fell in a horrible pitch. Black shapes moved around him as suddenly recognizable genlocks and hurlocks rushed towards him, their battle cry a horrid carnal scream. He turned in circles absorbing the sight of the massive army before him. He stepped forward to lunge at a creature then realized he possessed no weapon. One of the creatures gored him through with a crude and grotesque broad sword, its sides lined with spikes. He felt it rip through his flesh as another thrust came from behind, deep into his back. He looked down to see dark crimson blood gush from the wounds. The air around him got colder and his vision blurred. His body was knocked from side to side as angry beasts took their turn to ravage him with their mutilated weapons. Deep consuming blackness took hold of him. The pain was gone, feeling was gone. His body crumpled to the shadow that was the ground, and there he lay; broken and alone.


	2. Chapter 2 For the Road Ahead

**Chapter 2- For the Road Ahead**

Weeks passed and on the nights Alistair could sleep, he found himself still having terrifying nightmares. The premise was always the same. Ealasaid, elven temptress, divine enchantress, in all her beguiling splendor, would embrace him fervidly comforting his maimed soul and then just as before, she would vanish suddenly, leaving him to face his perpetual doom alone.

During those tumultuous weeks, Alistair routinely found himself either lying on the floor of his bedroom or, more recently, pacing the long labyrinthine halls, eventually drifting off to sleep in his throne room.

Since the traumatizing wedding night, Alistair had refused to touch Isabella, the resulting mental conflict almost too much to bear. He knew he needed an heir, but how could he convince his feeble mouse of a wife to lie with him again after he unexpectedly violated her? Would he even be able to copulate with her without the aid of his mesmerizing Siren? Would he ever be able to forget the only woman who had ever made him really feel like a king?

Eamon was still in Denerim. He had stayed in order to help Alistair with his transition into king. Eamon prepared the everyday meetings involving the various royal concerns. Most of them he executed alone, while Alistair made up some excuse that would call him elsewhere. Alistair let the Arl take care of as much business as he was allowed. Eamon begrudgingly took over these duties, hoping that someday Alistair would shake off his ever building depression and become the great king Eamon knew was possible. The Arl understood the reason for Alistair's malcontent, and most of the time Eamon didn't blame him for his foul mood.

Eamon himself had fallen into a forbidden love with Isolde, the daughter of an Orlesian Arl. Orlais had invaded and captured Ferelden for over eighty years, reining in tyranny. The Arl of Orlais and his family had taken occupation of Redcliffe, Eamon's rightful place, but despite the war between the families, Isolde and Eamon found each other and fell in love. After Orlais had been defeated, Isolde agreed to stay and marry Eamon, against the wishes of her family and her people. He knew many nobles loyal to Ferelden didn't approve of the marriage either, some had been very outspoken about it, but Eamon had refused to listen to any of them, and instead chose with his heart.

Eamon was secretly disappointed that Alistair had not done the same, but the circumstances were different. Isolde was still a noble even if it was from the distrusted Orlais. Ealasaid was a commoner and worse still, an elf. Eamon admired her nonetheless. She was a very strong woman, who had more courage than most men he had ever met and probably ever would; who had beauty comparable if not more than any human female he had ever seen, save his Isolde; and who had loved Alistair vehemently. Eamon had seen the unquestionable love in her eyes, and he had seen it replaced with bitterness and pain when Alistair had decided to end their relationship for the crown.

Even though Eamon didn't approve of Alistair's decision, he obligingly agreed to help him find a wife. Isabella Feryn had seemed to be an acceptable choice. She was young, demure, and most importantly, an agreement with her country would be tremendously beneficial to Ferelden. Isabella would never be able to take the place of Ealasaid in Alistair's heart, but she was agreeable, and fair looking. She was the best bride for Alistair that Eamon could have hoped for in their current condition.

Even so, Alistair's mood digressed into a brooding temperament. Eamon noticed Alistair's declining demeanor and decided to confront him about it. Eamon found Alistair pacing the halls, an increasingly common ritual for the new king.

"Your grace, you seem to be troubled as of late." Eamon stated. He had an inkling as to what could be troubling the forlorn king, but he thought it best to play ignorant.

Alistair continued his pacing, refusing to acknowledge Eamon.

"Your majesty!" Eamon insisted.

"Please Eamon," Alistair pleaded, breaking his silence and his stride. "You don't have to call me that you are my uncle after all." Alistair glanced up briefly and forced a smile before returning to his seemingly aimless wandering.

Eamon nodded. "Then Alistair, what seems to be troubling you, my lad. Surely it cannot be the broccoli shortage the farms of the Hinterlands are struggling with." Eamon spoke sarcastically, baiting Alistair for an honest answer.

"It's a personal matter Eamon." Alistair mumbled. "I would prefer not to speak of it." Alistair tried to walk away, but Eamon grabbed his shoulder.

"You are king now, Alistair, you should act more like it." Eamon said earnestly. "You think you're the only man who had to marry a woman he did not love? Grow up, boy." Eamon shook him lightly.

Alistair's mouth gaped, shocked at the old man's tone and blatancy. He started to argue, but stopped, realizing that Eamon would not be persuaded by his tenuous subterfuge. "Isabella is still not with child," Alistair admitted, concealing the fact that he had only tried once.

"It's only been two months, Alistair." Eamon consoled. "As it is with any couple, it may take awhile and with the taint in your blood it may take even longer."

Alistair blushed, embarrassed. Eamon noticed Alistair's disposition.

"What is it, Alistair?" Eamon prodded. Alistair remained silent, his blush darkening.

"Alistair, you are performing you duty, aren't you?" Alistair refused to answer.

Eamon's voice rose in anger, "Alistair, how do you expect to have an heir if you don't lie with your wife? I know you don't love her, but you have to do what's right for your country." Eamon stared at the disheartened young king and his anger faded.

"Being a king is never an easy task, my dear boy, but you have a responsibility to Ferelden. Remember that. You must do what is right for your people. Your life belongs to them now. It is your royal obligation." Eamon smiled and slapped Alistair's face light heartedly. "Now, go lie with your wife. Don't make me force you," Eamon jested, "neither of us wants that to happen. Trust me." Eamon chuckled and walked away.

Alistair stood in the hushed hallway. The candles against the dark painted walls flickered softly, their dim yellow light swirling through the noiseless air. Eamon was right, Alistair admitted. If Alistair ever expected to have an heir he would have tostop acting like a scared, selfish child. He had to concentrate on the future of Ferelden. He would have to learn to consummate with his wife, without getting carried away with thoughts of his heart's muse. Alistair blushed at his foolishness. His purpose was no longer his own, a point he should always remember. He had to put away his indecisiveness and become the king his people needed. A king with an heir.

Alistair opened the door to the drawing room. There she sat, Isabella, his wife. She spent most of her days in either the drawing room or the chantry, reading various canticles of Andraste and the Maker.

She wore an emerald green dress covered in golden stitched circular patterns under a simple black corset threaded with golden laces. Isabella's hair was tied up in intricate braided strands, pearls sewn in with her bright hair. She sat silently in a large, gold, embroidered chair, reading The Sermons of Justinia II. Alistair took a deep breath and walked over to her.

"We need to talk" Alistair said, the words echoing in his mind.

"You're disappointed with me, aren't you?" Isabella spoke softly, her eyes blankly staring at the page in front of her. "I haven't been a good wife," she continued. "You must be disgusted with my behavior. That's why you haven't touched me." Alistair stared at her dumbfounded.

"I'm not disappointed." Alistair shook his head in confusion. "I didn't want to hurt you again. I felt so bad for making you cry."

"I'm sorry my Lord. I was being a foolish child." Isabella kept her head down, but she closed her book.

"Isabella, you don't need to call me 'my Lord.' " Alistair stopped abruptly. Ealasaid had never treated him like royalty. After she had found out that he was the bastard son of the king, she continued to treat himlike any other man. He had been so grateful for that small favor. Everyone else he knew, even Duncan, treated him differently once they learned the truth about his heritage. Alistair blinked and cleared his head of the alluring elf women. "Please, Isabella, call me Alistair. I might be the king, but I'm also your husband."

"As you wish, my husband, Alistair." Isabella smiled to the floor.

Awkward silence briefly settled in the air. "So I guess the real question is if you would be willing to be with me, again." Alistair said breaking the rising tension. "I promise I will do better to make everything more comfortable for you." Alistair scratched the back of his head, unsure of exactly how that would happen.

"I will do so, if my husband commands it." Isabella acquiesced.

"Isabella, I don't command you to do anything." Alistair knelt beside her and put his hands over hers. "I'm asking you."

"It is my duty to do as you command, my husband." Isabella insisted.

"Please, call me Alistair." He sighed and squeezed her hands. She briefly looked at him and then turned away shyly.

"I'll come to bed tonight," Alistair continued, "we'll see what happens." Alistair kissed her hands and left the room, hoping the night would go better, knowing deep down that it wouldn't.

The rest of the day had gone by so quickly with night falling even faster and just as Alistair had predicted the night had not gone any better. In fact, Alistair would have sworn it had been worse. Again, the timid Isabella contributed nothing to the act, and instead had plaintively lain herself down in the middle of the bed, fully clothed. Alistair had expected as much, what he hadn't expected was his inability to perform. Afraid he would rush things again if he thought about the charming elven beauty, Alistair decided to try and stay in the moment. After removing Isabella's clothing and thoroughly fondling every inch and corner of the shrew's body Alistair had managed aweak, but steady erection. Unfortunately, after accidently creating and then repeating a mantra of, _if I could sleep with Morrigan, I can sleep with her_, his mind wandered to the swamp witch, dissipating any sexual hunger he had built up. _Damn it!_

Alistair attempted to consort with Isabella twice more that night, but the sight of the black haired hyena refused to vacate his thoughts, and he gave up. Isabella wept again, feeling undesirable and Alistair again chose to sleep on the floor.

Alistair refused to give up so easily this time around and the next night was more fruitful. Alistair had finally freed his imagination of the Witch of the Wilds, but he still had to think of Ealasaid in order to find any momentum. He had been more careful and went much slower, taking his time to warm Isabella up to him entering her. He met no resistance inside her and he was even able to fully ejaculate. He had been proud of his success until he noticed Isabella crying underneath him. Alistair hadn't realized until afterwards that he had called out Ealasaid's name during their intercourse. _Damn it!_

After some time Alistair had finally gotten into a stable regimen of lying with his wife. He still thought of Ealasaid every time and he knew he shouted her name on occasion, but the act of coupling with Isabella had become easier, though she still cried afterwards consistently.

Alistair's nightmares had faded to the occasional night terror and his hopes rose that soon he might be a father and all the pain he had struggled with would be worth the effort.

He looked forward to having a child, even if it wasn't with whom he desired. The thought of being a father gave him the small ounce of joy and encouragement that he used to face each day. He could feel in his soul that Isabella was finally with child. He just knew it.

He imagined the tiny creature in his arms. A small boy child, its small hands grabbing his finger, melting away all the despair and anger Alistair had in him. The young boy's face smiled at him and Alistair cried uncontrollably. He would give all the love he had left to his child.

Alistair thought about what he would teach his son. Swordsmanship, archery, history, horseback riding, government; all the things a young prince needed to learn to become a great king. Yes, Alistair would be the father that he had never known.

Alistair was sitting on his throne, thinking about what it would be like to be a father when a knock rapped the door and Alistair called out granting entrance. A messenger boy with short light brown hair and dirtied clothing ran in bearing news. The Grey Wardens would be visiting the royal estate within the week. They would be following their fearless leader, the woman who brought Thedas together and ended the Blight; the bewitching, valiant elf rogue, Ealasaid Tabris.

2


End file.
